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You attack me like I'm the enemy
but we are supposed to be family.

All I've heard for years is yelling
coming through a closed door.

A house that sounds like a war zone
can never be called a home.

I can't help but returning gunfire
with a few grenades of my own.

I think I can escape my past,
but it always catches up to me.

I wish we could have been happy,
if a little dysfunctional.

No family is perfect,
but mine is terribly flawed.

More than a cracked vessel,
we are barely holding together.

Maybe it's better if we fall apart,
but I won't be the one to leave.

I can't give up the fight,
even if it kills me inside.

I know there's hope for us;
all we need to do is try to fix us.